


Familial Bonds

by evrymeeveryyou



Category: Women of the Otherworld - Kelley Armstrong
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-27
Updated: 2011-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evrymeeveryyou/pseuds/evrymeeveryyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeremy's nightmares and his father's ghost combine to create a very real danger – one that Jamie must help Jeremy face before it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Takeoffs and Landings

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own a single character in this piece, although I wish I did. I don't own Jeremy Danvers or Jamie Vegas, Malcolm Danvers, Eve Levine or any of the Supernatural Council, or any of the ideas Kelley Armstrong created in her Women of the Otherworld novels. All props go to her and her incredibly creative mind. The only thing here that is mine is the plot.
> 
> Spoilers: Mainly for Men of the Otherworld and No Humans Involved. Some for Spellbound.
> 
> Rating: T+ for some sexual situations and language
> 
> POV: Jamie Vegas

"Where are you?"

A simple question, spoken in a gentle voice by a man of few words. Followed, of course, by the bellow of a southern drawl in the background. "Is that Jamie? Tell her to get her ass over here! The twins are askin' for her...for some reason."

Taking a deep breath, I sighed into the cell phone. "Tell Clay I said hi."

Jeremy just chuckled. "Answer?" I could practically see his eyebrow raising, gently demanding an answer to the question he'd asked before Clay had come in, all bluff and bluster. Those two were a balancing act of epic proportions. I often wondered how they didn't kill - no, that wasn't true. I knew that Jeremy's unending patience was why he'd never killed Clay. And Clay's fierce loyalty explained the opposite. Add Elena and her strong will and sleek strategies, and the twins with their combination of all of the strengths and one could wonder how the energies in Stonehaven weren't downright explosive. Must be the love of good family that doused the occasional flames.

"Take a deep breath in through your nose," I answered with a grin. "Open up your ears and you tell me where I am."

A huff on the other end of the cell phone. Followed by a flash of movement. And the door I was standing in front of opened to reveal Jeremy, long black, silver-threaded hair dropping into dark, almond shaped eyes unfortunately surrounded by dark circles. His face was covered in stubble that slightly obscured the slight upturn of his lips which I knew to be about as big a smile as he would give - at least unless there were some seriously extenuating circumstances.

"Hello."

I breathed a deliberately exasperated sigh. "Took you long enough," I teased and for a second there, I saw a flash of humor in his eyes, but it died just as quickly. I examined him. "You look tired."

He didn't miss a beat. "Flatterer."

"Please, you know I think you're drop-dead gorgeous, but if I was rocking the dark circles you were and tried to play it off like I was fine you would bite my head off."

His eyebrows raised in disbelief. Damn, I missed that look.

"Fine," I acknowledged the inaccuracy in my statement. "You would give me a stern talking to."

He nodded. "Better. Will you be taking up residence on the front steps or would you like to come in?" That flicker of humor was back.

I narrowed my eyes at him and he stepped aside. As I made my way into the house, he leaned over to take my suitcases and for a minute his warm breath tickled my ear as he whispered, "It's really good to see you." I closed my eyes against the feeling. God, how did he do that? One gesture and my body was raring to go. I idly wondered if it was simply how little he tried to be sexy that made him so damned irresistible to me. Either way...

"Jamie!" I heard Kate shout from across the room as she came barreling toward me, blonde curls bouncing around on her little 7 year old head. "Jamie, Jamie Jamie! How was your flight Jamie? Was your airplane fun? We're about to go on an airplane! They have a TV and..."

I laughed. It was not the way one expected to be greeted upon entering the home of a werewolf pack Alpha when one heard about it in theory, but in practice, this was par for the course.

"Ok!" I heard Elena's voice as she sped around the corner. "No knocking Jamie over on the way in the door." She laughed, striding into the room quickly as she pulled her white-blonde hair back into a ponytail. She paused in front of me, giving me a quick hug. "Hi Jamie." She said the words innocuously enough, but followed them up with a mouthed "We need to talk."

"Hello Jamie," Logan, Kate's twin brother, said with a quiet smile. He was ushered in by his father, Clay, who ruffled Kate's hair as he passed.

When Clay's eyes lit on me, I expected to see the quiet recognition, the smile and the nod and the huffed, "Jamie" that my presence normally received - a quiet acceptance that, though he didn't like me much, his father, his Alpha, had chosen me, and he couldn't avoid the simple fact that I was good for him. Instead, when Clay looked at me today, I swore I saw relief flit across his face...tempered by the tiniest bit of a smile. "Hi Jamie. Can I get you anything?"

As soon as the words were out, the expression on my face told me he would slap his palm to his forehead if it wouldn't be too obvious. Whatever his hand had been, he had tipped it when he had offered to serve me. Elena rolled her eyes and Jeremy huffed impatiently. I wasn't sure what was going on here, but knowing the participants in this little game, I'd venture that Clay was worried about Jeremy for some reason. Elena had been trying to deal with it subtly. Clay lacked subtlety.

I tried to answer like I hadn't got it - an attempt to spare Jeremy the embarrassment so I could quietly needle Elena for an answer later. "No thanks. I'm good." Clay nodded before sending an appreciative smile my way.

Okay. Now I was worried.

"Alright," Clay clapped his hands together to call the attention of his kids. "It's time for us to hit the road."

"Awww," Kate whined, "but I haven't even gotten the chance to talk to Jamie yet!"

I smiled, kneeling down in front of her. I pulled her into a big hug and made her a promise. "I'm going to be here for two whole weeks. You'll only be in Vermont for one. When you get back, we'll have so much more to talk about. I want to hear every single thing that happens out there."

Kate lit up. "I'll write it all down!" She hopped in place.

Jeremy shot me a look that told me I had no idea what I had just gotten myself into. I was okay with it. I really did love those kids.

Logan patiently waited for his sister to leave before giving me a gentle hug. "I've been reading a book on airplanes. I think they are so cool." He told me, his face lighting up with a much more contained excitement. "Have you ever been on one with turbulence?"

I grinned. This kid and his penchant for science. "A bunch of times."

"Wow." Logan gazed up at me with wide-eyed wonder, like I'd just admitted I had wrestled a bear once. If only he was ready to know that that was something his parents had actually done once. Well...it wasn't a bear exactly...

"C'mon guys," Elena commanded. "Say goodbye to Jeremy. We've got to go if we're going to make our flight."

Each kid took their turn saying goodbye to Jeremy before they headed over to their father who was fidgeting by the doorway. Clay would be excited by going to Vermont in the middle of the winter. All that outdoor space. I could practically see him itching to Change and run with Elena. Good thing Savannah and Adam were going along. They could watch the kids while their parents got a little bit of wolfy exercise.

As Clay ushered them out the door, I could hear Logan as he proclaimed, "I hope our flight has turbulence."

Clay closed his eyes against the words and turned to look at Jeremy, Elena and I. "God help us."

The door closed behind Clay and the kids. Jeremy looked at Elena, expecting her to leave. When she didn't, he stood up a little straighter, looking every bit like the Alpha he was, challenging her to do anything he didn't sanction. She huffed a laugh. It wasn't that she didn't respect Jeremy. It was that Jeremy had named her as his successor and that had shifted the balance of power ever-so-slightly.

Elena grinned at him. "Should I be taking notes?" When Jeremy didn't answer and didn't back down, she turned to me. "Let me get you some coffee while Jeremy brings your bags upstairs."

"Wait, I have something for the kids!" I rushed to the smaller bag and pulled out a bag of sweets, handing them to Elena. "The best in New Orleans."

"Great, thanks!" Elena smiled. "This should make Clay cringe."

"The reminder of his...where he was from?" I asked, wanting to smack myself in the head. Clay's childhood hadn't been good. Being turned into a werewolf at the age of six alone would do that to you...but all signs said his life hadn't been any better before that.

"No," Jeremy shook his head. "The sugar. On a flight."

I frowned. "Hmph…he always seems so indulgent of Kate's flights of crazy." I winked at Elena.

"Oh, he is," Jeremy nodded. "It's the other people on the flight that won't enjoy it. Then, Clay will get defensive…"

"In that case, hide those things until you're at a ski slope."

"That'll work," Elena laughed. "If they don't sniff 'em out. Jeremy? Her bags?"

"Am I the bellboy now?" He challenged, his voice taking on a surprising sharp edge. Now I knew I wasn't imagining the tension in the air at Stonehaven. Jeremy very rarely got sharp with anyone.

"No," Elena laughed, but it was strained. "But you're not exactly the barista either. We wouldn't want to burn her coffee, now would we? Besides, it's the gentlemanly thing to do." She acted innocent, but it was pretty clear she was full of it.

"Very funny," Jeremy leaned towards her and spoke in a low voice, obviously hoping I wouldn't hear. "I told you it's nothing."

"Uh-huh," she nodded. "Go be a nice boyfriend and take her bags upstairs or I'll just call her from the road."

Jeremy's jaw worked, hands clenched around the handles of my bags. He didn't budge, but muttered something about hiding or possibly breaking my cell phone.

Okay, enough of that.

"Jeremy," I said sweetly. "Could you please take my bags upstairs before I start to get insulted?"

He blinked hard, turned to look at me, and I could see I'd gotten him. Jeremy was big on propriety. The idea that he was being rude and hurting my feelings would be enough to snap him out of even the most heated situation.

"Sorry," Jeremy nodded. "I haven't been sleeping so well. It's making me..."

"Moody?" Elena supplied.

Jeremy looked about ready to growl at her. Then turned to face me. "It will be nice to have the house to ourselves for the week." His face was all innocence, but the not-so-hidden subtext in that sentence was that the sooner Clayton and Elena left, the better Jeremy would feel.

With that, Jeremy lifted my bags and hauled them up the stairs with ease. Elena had already started to put on a pot of coffee when I entered the kitchen just a moment later.

"You know, he's not going to take very long up there," I remarked. "Besides, he can probably hear you from up there anyway."

"I'm sure he can." Elena shrugged. "It doesn't matter. He knows what I plan to talk to you about and he knows he has no choice. The only reason I bothered kicking him out of the room was so he wouldn't kick up a fuss when I tried to talk."

I nodded.

"Jeremy isn't just 'not sleeping well'," She supplied. "Jeremy is having nightmares. Bad ones. Jump up in a cold sweat, scream bloody murder, nightmares. And he won't tell us why or what they're about."

"Nightmares? Or visions?"

"You know I wondered the same thing," Elena admitted. "But Clay says that if that was it, and he knew someone he cared for was in danger, Jeremy would never sit on his hands. By this point, he would have made a move to figure it out, to help. The fact that he refuses to talk about it after two weeks means...whatever it is, it's all in Jeremy's head. And it's making him...edgy. I've tried to get him to talk about it, but, you know how he can be."

Nobody talked about Jeremy's less wolfy abilities in any kind of depth. They were skimmed over. A fact of life, but one that nobody ever raised curiosity in. Only I had ever discussed them with him. What Clay knew he only learned from watching Jeremy's behavior for years. But there were wide gaps in even our combined knowledge where the visions were concerned. Clay could be wrong. Or Jeremy could be having some serious life stuff going on. How could anyone know? As open as Jeremy could be with me, there were still large chapters of his life that were a closed book.

I heard Jeremy start to head back down the stairs. "Alright," I nodded, my voice a hushed whisper. "I'll try to get to the bottom of it."

Elena smiled. "Coffee is almost ready," she spoke at full voice now. "Sorry I didn't have time to finish it." Then, silently, she mouthed, "Thank you."

I nodded, walking with her to the door. "Have a great trip, hon," I smiled warmly.

Jeremy walked over, stopping right behind me. "Have fun," he said, and I could tell he was taking great pains to eliminate the mood he'd been in when I got here. "Take pictures. I want to see those kids on skis."

Elena eyed him for a moment before rushing around me and giving him an unexpected, albeit hurried, hug. "Will do."

"I'm fine," he stressed, grabbing Elena's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Her eyebrow raised warily. "Of course you are." And with that she headed out the door and I marched over to the kitchen to turn off the coffee. As soon as the door closed behind Elena, I heard Jeremy make his way in. He planted himself behind me, hands resting on the counter at either side of me, effectively boxing me in. His heat radiated towards me, and I could feel my throat go dry.

I stopped in my tracks, not bothering to turn around. "Yes?" I asked.

"Hello," he said mildly. Leaning in towards me, he nuzzled against the back of my neck, inhaling my scent deeply. "I've missed you."

Now, that was a rare but welcomed admission. Slowly, I turned around to face him. He looked alot better now, like he'd splashed some water on his face and woken himself up. He smiled. A real smile this time and I melted. "I missed you too."

His lips met mine, gently. Once. Twice. Soft sweet kisses that made me yearn for more. I smiled against his lips.

"The times apart...they're starting to feel...longer," he said, his arms winding around my waist.

I threw my arms around his neck in response. "I've been thinking the same thing."

"Almost time to start working full time for the council?" He asked. The question surprised me. We had always agreed that this was the way things would be for awhile. That we both had responsibilities and lives that meant we had limited time to spend on each other.

"Almost time to turn things over to Elena?" I countered.

His expression seemed to shift and then move right back. As if the question had taken him off guard, but he'd popped right back into his poker face. "That's a problem, isn't it? We miss each other but our lives..."

Well, that could just about ruin my night. A sudden fear cut through me. Had he called me all the way up here just to break things off? "Where are you going with this, Jeremy?"

He blinked hard. Gave his head a little shake. "Sorry. Nowhere. I'm just..."

"Off," I answered, "because of these nightmares you don't want to talk about."

He swallowed hard. As much of an answer as I was going to get. I could either let the topic of conversation get to me, or I could try to change the course of where it looked like this night was going.

Pulling him tighter, I moved my body against his, teasingly. He watched me, eyes glittering, predatory. He pulled me even tighter against him. Leaning forward, I kissed him - this time a real, deep kiss, with lips and teeth and tongue that forced a barely audible groan from him. When I pulled back, I smiled. "Well, let's see if we can't make you forget all about them, huh?"

His agreeing growl was accompanied by him lifting me up and onto the kitchen table. As he kissed me breathless, I decided this could turn out to be a very good night after all.


	2. The Ghost of Danvers Past

"No! Please! No!"

Jeremy's harsh cry exploded into the air as he bolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat, his eyes wide in terror. He took a deep breath, a blush creeping up his cheeks as he fought to catch his breath. That's when he turned to look for me in the bed, to make sure he hadn't woken me up. And when he found my side of the bed empty. Jolting upright the rest of the way, he zeroed in on me, calmly sitting in the big comfy chair facing his window, sipping coffee.

"I could come over and comfort you," I said, gaze returning to the window, lifting my spoon, stirring the coffee in my mug. "That would be the nice thing to do. However, that would imply you were actually acknowledging you were having nightmares." I turned my head to look at him and saw that my arrow had hit home. Shoulders slumping, he knew there was no getting out of this discussion now - not without pissing me off.

He cleared his throat, his hands scrubbing over his face. Then, his eyes met mine. "If I told you that I have these every now and then, that eventually they go away and I'm fine, would you believe that I don't need to talk about them and just let it go?"

I returned to looking out the window and stirring my coffee.

"No then?" He grumbled, rising from the bed now and pulling on his boxers, sweatpants and a t-shirt. "I'm going to go get some water."

I nodded, letting him go. I had been watching him all night. He'd been tossing and turning almost since his head hit the pillow. Drawing the runes he used to protect himself and others on his leg over and over, fingers twitching in odd patterns across the air in front of him. I should've woken him, should've calmed him down, but I needed this - Jeremy was too prideful and fully believed himself capable of hiding his emotions from everyone. If he was ever going to talk to me he needed to be caught behaving out of sorts, so he simply couldn't argue that he was fine.

And he wasn't fine. Whatever was going on, the look on his face when he woke up - I'd never seen him that scared. We'd faced alot of pretty dramatic stuff together - and that look...that look chilled me.

He was taking too long getting water. I was beginning to feel like he was avoiding this conversation. With a sigh, I rose from the chair, pulling my silk robe tighter. Then I took my coffee and headed downstairs towards the kitchen.

The black flash of fur in the corner of my eye was unmistakable. Jumping, I dropped my coffee on the floor.

"Shit," I grumbled, leaning over to pick up the mug and spoon. "If you wanted to go for a run to work this whole thing out of your system, it probably would've been nice to -" I turned to find myself face to face with a big black wolf - but not the one I was expecting. The wolf growled. Heart leaping into my throat, I scuttled backwards, the mug tumbling from my hands and onto the rug again. "Jeremy!"

I could hear his soft curse as he raced up the stairs two by two behind me. "Jamie?" He called.

The wolf didn't move away. His leg muscles bunched and within seconds he was lunging towards me as I let out a blood curdling scream. My eyes slammed shut, my hands flew up to protect myself, but...nothing actually happened.

"Jamie?" Jeremy asked, now beside me, watching me. He knelt down examining the space I had been looking at - the space that now stood completely empty before me.

"I'm guessing you didn't see that?" I asked, turning towards him, my face heating.

He sighed, his eyes sympathetic. "See what?"

"Exactly," I slumped to the floor. "Seems we have a were-ghost here in Stonehaven. Shit, I thought you had changed. He looked just like..."

I let the sentence trail off, noticing how that hunted look that had been in his eyes when he'd woken from his nightmare had returned. His skin blanched. As I examined him, fear gnawed at me, but I tried to fight it back. I'd seen Jeremy concerned, even nervous. I had rarely seen him grow pale and look like he was about to keel over. This...whatever it was, this hit him on a whole new level.

"Jeremy?"

He shook his head. His nostrils flared and his eyes grew wider. "It seems...it may be time to tell you about the nightmares."

"Ya think?"

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He waited until we were in the kitchen before even speaking again. He began brewing tea.

"Um...coffee for me." I argued.

"Yes," he answered, continuing to brew the tea, "we need to be more jumpy."

I sneered at him. He handed me a mug, that no nonsense look in his eyes, the one he used on all of the Pack Werewolves. It made me want to "accidentally" drop the mug out of spite. He sometimes forgot that only his Pack had to listen to him. Rather than break it, I placed it on the other end of the table, got up from my seat and set to work getting myself some coffee from my earlier brew.

"You're never just going to agree with me, are you?" He sighed, arms crossing over his chest, leaning against the counter.

"When you're right, yes," I answered, busying myself with pouring the coffee into a fresh mug. "When there is no room for opinion, sure. Just because you're you?" I turned and flashed him a look over my shoulder. "Not likely."

His lips turned upwards slightly, and it seemed like his mood had shifted. "Strange how appealing that is." His hand reached out to land on my hip, his body moving to stand directly behind mine. When his arm looped around my waist, his lips finding my neck, I snapped out of it.

"Nice try," I said, my hands reaching down to still his. "But no changing the subject."

He smiled. "Sorry. I swear I wasn't doing that on purpose."

"Sure. What was it that Elena used to say about your diplomatic skills? 'A combination of charm, manners and a healthy amount of lying?' I see right through you, buddy."

He mouthed the word 'buddy' in disbelief, but unwound himself from me and settled onto a stool. "Where should I start, Dr. Vegas?"

"What are they about?" I asked, ignoring the psychiatry jibe.

He shrugged. "It's not really that simple. It's very...dream-like." He frowned at the ridiculousness of his own explanation. "Stream of consciousness. Replete with a general sense of malaise."

"Well, why don't you tell me what exactly has you so upset," I tried.

"Do you mean what has me upset throughout or the part that has me jumping up in bed looking like prey?"

So, that was what really bothered him - the lack of control, the feeling of being hunted. By whom? Our not-so-friendly ghost? "Either one."

"I'd really rather not start there."

I glared at him, then took my coffee and sat down on the stool nearest him so I was facing him and not sitting on the other side of a counter. I sat down and waited. As I did, his eyes searched mine and whatever he found there, he deemed it capable of hearing what he had to say.

"Like I said, it starts with normal things, overlaid with a general sense of malaise. I'm painting. But I have a really bad feeling. Like I should pack it up soon. Like I'm running out of time."

"Can you see what you're painting?"

He huffed a laugh. "That's the funny thing. It doesn't look like something I would paint. It looks more like Kate made it."

I grinned. "So what are you and your kindergarten-level skills painting? Random squiggles?"

The smile disappeared from his eyes. "My family. My Pack. I'm making them very small but there isn't enough room on the page."

"The Pack is not that big."

"Well, it starts at the Pack. But all my Pack brothers since childhood and moving up. And as it gets to more recent members, like Reese and Noah...it stops being just the Pack. I paint you. Savannah. The whole council. Hope. And I'm running out of room. I feel like I don't have the time to set up another canvas, like I have to squeeze everyone in there until it's over."

"It doesn't seem dire."

"I know. Except it feels dire," he explained. "Then the painting is gone. And I'm standing in a room I recognize. The one we made into the nursery. All I can think is that it should be the nursery. But it's not. It's a cluttered room filled with books and clothes strewn everywhere and every time it takes me awhile to recognize it." A look of disgust crossed his face. "It's Malcolm's room," he spat, the words coming out venomous.

"Oh." Instantly, I knew who was haunting Stonehaven. Why wouldn't he be? I knew that if my mother were dead she would be haunting me from the grave just to piss me off. And as awful as my mother was, from what I could gather, she had nothing on Malcolm Danvers. Spectacular.

"Yeah." He agreed, and I knew he had reached the very same conclusion I had. I sighed. I get a bitch of a mother, and a bastard of a father-in-law. My brain halted at the reference. Father-in-law? Well, wasn't that just a tad presumptuous?

Shaking my head, I urged him on. "So, what happens next?"

He took a deep breath. "I sit down and turn on the TV." He said that as though Dream Jeremy had thrown on a party hat and started doing the hokey pokey. But that made sense. Jeremy, on average, simply didn't do television. Which was how he hadn't had a clue who I was when I met him.

He swallowed hard and continued. "This is where it gets strange. And hard to explain."

"Take your time," I said, gently laying a hand on his. "It's a dream. I didn't quite expect it to be linear."

He offered me a twist of a smile and then launched in. "So, the TV is showing me...all kinds of things I don't want to see. Memories I wish I didn't have. And every time one takes place...I can hear Malcolm in the background taunting me. And I can see people as they get blacked out of my painting, painted over sloppily by some...unseen hand."

I knew it was Jeremy's place to growl at the bad guy, but at the moment I was stifling one of my own. I could see this coming from a mile away.

"Every mistake I've ever made is highlighted. I remember killing a human to protect Clayton. The lab tech who accidentally took blood from Clay and found something strange there. I hear Malcolm telling me that it's proof that I'm every bit as much of an animal as him."

No way. I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up his hand. "Just...let me finish." I heard the struggle in his voice and I realized how difficult this was for him. Jeremy never opened himself up for anyone to see any of his weaknesses. Antonio and Clay had come the closest. Every now and then, Elena figured one of them out. But to open up and tell me something from so deep within his psyche...this was full disclosure. He was giving me everything I had ever wanted from him and now, seeing how much it seemed to pain him to do so, I regretted ever asking.

"I see myself killing Wally Santos and Clay killing Stephen Santos. I see Malcolm killing Andrew Santos. Pack brothers. Because Malcolm sent them there to kill us and when they didn't succeed, I had tried to make Andrew the reason Malcolm stepped down. And I hear Malcolm telling me that if I hadn't tried to weaken the Pack by even attempting to become its leader, none of them would ever have had to die."

"You're a strong leader,' I argued without meaning to. The words simply escaped.

"The sad thing is, everything Malcolm was telling me there were things I've already questioned about my own choices." He frowned. "Just my subconscious bringing all of those things to light. I see Dennis Stillwell, dying tortured and alone, because he didn't believe in my leadership enough to come back into the fold, to seek my protection. I see Logan, our Logan's namesake, and Peter dying in the mutt uprising and the fact that Daniel Santos led it, probably being driven by my more lenient choices with the Pack and my own role in the deaths of three Santos men. I see Elena being brave and stupid and rescuing Clay before I had the chance and I see it as my own weakness, my own inability to sweep in and destroy, the fact that I think too damn much, that caused such a thing. I hear Malcolm calling me a coward. I wonder if he's right. And then, I start to see things that never happened, but could have. Antonio dying trying to protect me from the knife of a werewolf serial killer Daniel had created. Elena failing to survive after Clay bites her, Clay losing his arm to the zombie scratch, Daniel killing Clay, the twins being dissected, and I see them all as though they are memories. Things that have passed that I can't do anything about. By this point, based on Elena's comments about my nightmares I'm fairly sure I'm making the house rumble with all my twisting and turning."

"But that's not what...that's not how it ends?" I asked, coaching him on. The emotion in his eyes, the loss, was difficult to see. If I didn't know better, I would think I sensed a little shiver running through his body, and I grasped his hand, knotting my fingers through his, to quell it.

"No. Have I ever told you about the - " He stopped himself. "No of course I haven't. I don't believe I've ever talked to anyone about this. The only one with the faintest idea is Clayton and that's because he did the same thing to him."

Fear vibrated through me. "What?"

He sighed. "I hope you appreciate how...difficult this is."

"I know you don't like to share much," I smiled, kindly. "I've accepted that."

"I share more with you than I do with most," he said, squeezing my hand. "I just...don't like to be the one who needs..."

"Help? A shoulder to cry on?" I laughed. "No, really?"

"I'm generally the one providing support."

"Too frickin' bad," I scolded, gesturing between the two of us. "This thing is a two way street. Now out with it."

His head tilted, a look in his eyes I couldn't decipher. Then, he blinked and started talking again. "Malcolm never approved of the whole painting thing," he explained. At first I felt like he was beating around the bush a bit. But then I realized he was actually segueing back into the story. "Thought it was a feminine hobby." His mouth quirked into a dark smile that held very little humor. "I, of course, loved it. And as a child, I always tried to avoid his decrees - his attempts at dictating my life based on whatever he thought was acceptable. So, while I avoided painting in the house while he was around, I still did it. The hobby started when I was nine. As a birthday gift, my Grandfather allowed me to go to a public community art program in Bear Valley - which was rare. Usually we didn't do anything so close to home. But Edward trusted me not to draw too much attention to us. I attended for a year and I made a friend there. A ten year old girl named Lanie. I had...a bit of a...crush on her."

I grinned. "Did you?"

He smiled, but it flickered and faded. "She was unusual...like me, a kid with much more mature tastes then her parents could handle. So they didn't. She was precocious and her father was too busy to deal with it. Her mother had died years ago. So nobody was really around to take care of her. We had been talking about landscapes and I told her about the brook out back in Stonehaven and how it would make a beautiful landscape. And she told me she's going to come over later to see it. I agreed. It was a moment of being irresponsible - to impress a girl. When she got to the house, I walked her back to see the brook and told her I was going to go get us a snack. When I got back there..."

He trailed off. His eyes went blank, like his brain had went on vacation. Then he shook it off and continued. "Malcolm claimed he hadn't seen her. Said he'd just smelled the unfamiliar scent and thought someone was trespassing at Stonehaven so he...snapped her neck."

"God," I breathed. I mean I already hated Malcolm, but this...this was a child.

"I'm fairly sure that it was the truth. That he had moved first and realized what he'd done later. But instead of taking responsibility for the mistake, or even feeling bad for what he had done, he told me it was my fault for bringing her there and forced me to help him dispose of the body. He told me that if I ever told anybody what he'd done...he would tell them I killed her and have me banished from the Pack." The word cut off shakily, and, to my horror, I could see that his eyes were filling with tears. He ducked his head, trying to hide it and as he struggled for control, I could see just what having Malcolm as a father had cost him. I remembered Antonio and Clay once saying how they should have killed him themselves years before he had actually died and that they regretted not being the cause of that death. And now I understood why.

"Jeremy - " I started, but he cut me off.

"I'm not done." When he spoke, his voice was steady again and his emotions were back in check, but every sentenced ratcheted up in anxiety, until he was talking at a speed I had never heard him speak. "He did something similar when Clay was a child. Brought a woman here and, that time, tried to get Clay to kill her. Clay resisted, so he did it himself. So in the nightmare, I see this. I see him snapping my mother's neck, then Lanie's, then this woman's. And then, I hear his voice behind me. I turn from the television and I see him there with a woman. I can't see her face but...I know. I know as the painting is blackening over, who it is I'm about to lose. I try to get him to stop and he tells me I'm a coward. And it freezes me in place. I can't stop him, I'm too scared, too weak, too stupid, everything Malcolm ever said about me is true. I can't help her. And as I cry out and beg him to stop I catch a glimpse of her face."

"Who?" I demanded.

I would have already known the answer, even if his eyes didn't raise to mine, stormy and black with dread. "If he's here...maybe you should leave Stonehaven. At least for a little while."

"Like hell," I growled. "I'm not leaving until I banish that monster from this house and send him as far as he'll go."

Jeremy's eyes widened. He blinked and a small smile quirked his lips. "Going to save the day, are you?"

"Of course," I smiled. "It's about time I had another chance to be the hero anyway. Besides, he's a ghost. What can he do to me? Aside from give me the creeps and chase after me."

"Is he a simple ghost?" Jeremy questioned. "I shouldn't be able to sense him. Or smell him like I did in the hall. A werewolf shouldn't be able to - "

"Yeah, I think this has less to do with the werewolf side of you and more to do with the whole 'Kitsunegari' thing."

"Hmph," he said, thoughtfully, considering the option. "I suppose that could be."

My eyes narrowed at him. This whole lack of sleep thing combined with how on-edge he was was screwing with his reasoning capabilities. Normally he would have figured it out long before I'd had the chance.

"Yes, that was probably obvious," he nodded. "So I'm sensing him, and probably whatever he's thinking, and that's what leads to the nightmares. Which implies that he comes and goes from Stonehaven whenever he wants and has for years. This isn't a new occurrence. Although the addition of you is still fairly recent..."

While he'd been reciting the events of the dream, it hadn't occurred to me, but now, suddenly, my heart welled up over the fact that this new level of intensity in his nightmares, the thing that had called Elena's attention to it, had been the addition of his need to protect me. It wasn't just that. It was the whole string of revisited deaths in his life, the whole feeling of inadequacy he had over his leadership skills, the fear that he would make a mistake and lose someone important, all those years of repressed emotions building up to a fever pitch. But still...that final moment, that final jolt of fear - that had been about me. Sliding off of the stool, I stepped into the space between his legs, reaching out and cupping his face in my hands. "I'm safe here with you. I'm not even the slightest bit concerned."

"Are you sure you shouldn't be?" He asked, and the vulnerability in his eyes was overwhelming. I leaned in, wrapping my arms around him and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips before answering.

"I'm sure." I took him by the hand and led him off the stool, out of the kitchen and back up the stairs. "I need to get some more sleep. But first thing in the morning we're digging into my baggage, finding my supply of vervain, and blasting his ghost out of the place."

"Alright," Jeremy answered. "Sleep. I'll...paint."

I looked up at him and the look on his face told me that as long as I was here, he wouldn't be sleeping again. It seemed that no matter how old he got, how many times he had proven him wrong or beaten him, no matter how much he accomplished, no matter how much he faced and what he gained, Malcolm was still enough to scare the crap out of him. As far as Jeremy was concerned, Malcolm was his own personal boogeyman.

Which is why I neglected to tell him about the deep growl of a voice that sounded over my shoulder as I ascended the stairs.

"Good luck getting rid of me, girly," Malcolm told me. "It won't be as easy as you think. I belong to Stonehaven. And nobody is kicking me out ever again."


	3. Reality Shifts

The warmth of the sun's rays, blazing through the windows of Jeremy's room pierced through my sleeping eyes and pulled me from my slumber. I turned, hoping to find him there beside me, but the other side of the bed was still relatively cool, and I knew that he had never gone to sleep. Glancing at the bedside clock, I realized with a start that it was already noon - a fact that was more surprising at first glance than it was when I realized I had stayed up for hours last night waiting for and, afterwards, talking about Jeremy's nightmare.

With a stretch and a sigh, I pulled myself out of bed, straightened my emerald green chemise, and wandered over to the other side of the room, where Jeremy was drawing something on his sketch pad. Or at least he had been. When I looked over to him, sitting on the chair I'd been watching him in last night, he appeared to be scrutinizing his work. I tiptoed up to him and peered over the chair, only realizing once I'd approached that he was sleeping soundly. I frowned. I was sure that wasn't a comfortable position to be sleeping in.

I took a moment to steal a glance at his sketch and smiled. The table beside Jeremy was littered in sketches just like it, but Jeremy was a perfectionist and if he didn't find what he was looking for in a drawing, the drawing got tossed into the circular file.

The version he had kept stole my breath. He had drawn me, and while the resemblance was dead on, it revealed a beauty that Jeremy seemed to see in me that I never saw when I looked in the mirror. The Jamie in the picture was striking. There was a spark of determination in her eyes and the twist of her mouth suggested humor. This was no pretty, empty shell. This was who Jeremy saw me to be.

I felt tears well up in my eyes. Jeremy, by his very nature, was such an amazing person - patient, thoughtful, intelligent and heroic. My God, if he could see me this way...I said it before and I'll say it again, probably a million times - I got so very, very lucky with this man.

" 'Tonio," a muttered cry sounded from him. It was quiet - barely audible, but the anguish behind it sparked the knowledge that this was the part of the nightmare where Antonio was killed protecting him.

It was happening again. Pursing my lips, I struggled for a solution. This time, I wouldn't force him to relive the entire nightmare in an effort to force his hand - he had told me everything I needed to know and everything in me wanted to spare him all of this again.

"Clayton...no." He twitched in his seat, hand flying up, absently tracing something in the air.

Shrugging, I decided on a way to help ease him out of the nightmare. If there was anything I was good at...

I caught his hand in the air, easing it to my chest so he could feel my heart beat. Then I crawled onto the chair, straddling his lap and lowering my lips to his ear.

"You're fine, baby," I whispered. "Everyone is fine. You're here with me and everything is okay."

I nipped at his ear, and the sound he made in response was decidedly better in tone. With a grin, I moved to his lips, pressing mine against his, urging him along until I felt his lips and then the rest of his body come to life beneath mine.

"Good morning," he whispered against my lips, his eyes remaining shut despite the fact that he was now very much awake. His hands slid up my thighs, gripping my hips.

"Afternoon," I corrected, moving my lips along his jaw and over to his neck. "I slept pretty late."

"Sorry," he muttered, "but I can't complain about this wake up call."

"Yeah, somehow I thought you'd like that," I smiled.

"Well, look at that," a booming and obnoxious and decidedly un-Jeremy voice spoke in my ear. "My boy's not queer after all."

I must've jumped thirty feet in the air. My heart was in my throat. Damn it. I had forgotten about Malcolm.

I sighed, "I'm sorry Jer," I breathed, struggling to steady myself. "We have a visitor." Opening my eyes, I looked up at him and was surprised to find him staring off wide-eyed over my shoulder, the blood completely drained from his face. "Jeremy?"

He swallowed hard. "Not a nightmare? We're awake?" He managed.

Malcolm laughed wildly behind me. "You know...he always spent so much time with Antonio, but he never wanted to go out and pick up girls. I always just figured he had a thing for him. Not that I'd ever think Antonio returned it. Now that boy, that one was a man after my own heart."

I closed my eyes against the words. "And what exactly would it matter if he was gay? Of all the close-minded, asshole things to - "

"Jamie?" Jeremy cut me off, and the urgency in his tone was enough to pull me away from cursing his arrogant son-of-a-bitch father out completely. "Nightmare. Yes or no?" He was sucking in gulps of air with every word.

"We're awake," I answered. "Malcolm's just being an asshole. Speaking of which, I've got to find -"

"Then why can I see him?" Jeremy asked.

I looked at Jeremy and followed his gaze. Over my shoulder and right at Malcolm. Oh shit.

"No ordinary shade, my friends." Macolm grinned.

"You can...what?" I struggled to find words, and perhaps the delay was enough to snap Jeremy into action, because in an instant he lifted me off of his lap and deposited me behind him, shielding me as he reached over and through Malcolm without even bothering to pause.

"What are you doing, fool?" Malcolm growled with a roll of his eyes.

"Making sure you can't touch us." Jeremy answered, his mouth upturned in a defiant smile, one I was sure wouldn't have been there had he not got the answer he was hoping for.

"Still a coward," Malcolm shook his head. "You've been doing this for how long? And you've fought who exactly? Clay protects you at every turn. You can't even protect yourself against a few diseased rats. If it weren't for Clayton, you'd be long dead by now. And then who would be Alpha? That bitch-in-heat your little monster created?"

I watched Jeremy's fists clench. If he was still scared, he was doing a damn good job of hiding it. He was holding his ground quite well. A growl rose in his throat. "Funny, I thought you liked Clayton. He had something the rest of us lacked - isn't that what you said?"

"I said he had something you lacked," Malcolm corrected. "A backbone. A brain. Instincts. Machismo. Take your pick."

Jeremy looked over his shoulder and I was again surprised by what I saw in his face. This time his face was darkened with an anger so intense, I had to look away. "Jamie - go to your bag and I want you to -"

"Are you sure you want to let her run along?" Malcolm asked, taking a step closer to us for effect. "Are you sure I won't snap her neck before you have the chance to stop me?"

My throat went dry. Jeremy's only response was a deep throaty growl and a twitch of his fingers against his pant leg. He was tracing his protective runes.

Malcolm laughed, "If I didn't know better, I'd say my little runt had found himself a mate - but then, you would protect anything, right? A kitty? A flower? A pretty bunny?" He huffed in annoyance. "What an embarrassment."

"You're an ass," I said, more out of reflex than any actual desire to insinuate myself into the conversation.

"Oh honey," Malcolm sneered. "Why bother talking? You'll be dead by nightfall either way."

Another growl from Jeremy, but this one was mixed with words. "False. You can't touch her."

Malcolm nodded. "And last night, you couldn't see me. Change is good."

Jeremy clenched his fists and spoke again, but this time there was a slight tremor to his words that made me wince. Malcolm had shaken him. "Jamie, get to your bag."

This time, I did as I was told, hopping over the chair and to the front of the dresser where I had parked my baggage. I felt the eyes of both Danvers men on me the whole time, and I struggled, pushing through my bags impatiently, unable to find the vervain I needed to get rid of this loser.

"I can't find it!" I grumbled, frustrated. Now I understood why Jeremy always teased me about packing my bags neatly. Next time I packed I swore I'd be a pillar of organization so pristine I'd make Martha Stewart proud. Did Martha Stewart organize stuff? Whatever. I glanced over my shoulder. Malcolm had a broad grin on his face. Jeremy's confidence was beginning to waiver.

"Forget the vervain," Jeremy responded, his voice tense. "Summon Eve."

Right. Because we needed to get to the bottom of how the hell Jeremy could see Malcolm. "Got it," I answered, leaning all the way over the largest bag, to dig into the front pocket and pulling out the ring Savannah had given me to contact her mother.

Despite every instinct to the contrary, I closed my eyes and focused on summoning Eve.

"So, not much has changed, has it?" Malcolm continued, babbling like this was little more than simple small talk. "Everyone fights your battles for you. Edward, Antonio, Clayton, Elena and now the beautiful Jamie Vegas? Tell me Jeremy, is she your knight in shining -"

"Shut the fuck up," I grumbled, once again surprised by the vehemence of the words. He was insulting Jeremy and the more he did it, the more my blood boiled. Most likely because Jeremy was just so prone to believing it. "I'm trying to focus over here."

"Yeah on banishing me! Let me help you with that!" Malcolm rolled his eyes and then turned to face Jeremy. "I've got to say, you've got yourself a little fire cracker there."

Jeremy nodded. "She doesn't have a large supply of fear." The admiration in his voice made me slam my eyes shut and focus, really focus, on what I was doing.

As I did, I could feel Malcolm's eyes wandering over me before giving an approving grunt. "More than I could ever say for you. I may not snap her neck right away."

Well, that gave my call to Eve the needed push, because as soon as he said it, I heard Malcolm groan in pain. When I turned, Eve was standing beside him, and I could tell she had done some damage to his groin. He was grasping it desperately and looked just about ready to collapse on the floor. Considering the fact that ghosts didn't generally feel pain quite that badly, I imagined Eve must have done a number on him.

"Eve!" Jeremy smiled his crooked little half smile into the air, clearly relieved by her presence. "Good to see you."

"Can you?" I asked, eyes wide, looking from Jeremy to Eve and back.

"No," Jeremy answered. "Although I can see the effect she has on him."

Eve turned to face me. "What's going on? You were calling pretty urgently."

I struggled for an answer, trying my best to encapsulate the situation in as fast an explanation as possible. "Jeremy was having nightmares. We think he was sensing his father's presence here and that caused them."

Eve's dark eyes bulged a little. "I hit Jeremy's dad in the nuts?"

"Yeah, but he hates him. He won't hold it against you."

"Oh, ok," Eve nodded, turning to appraise Malcolm. She walked around him slowly as he finally straightened. "You know, he's not bad looking, but Mama's genes were definitely something." She eyed Jeremy. "A marked improvement over the original."

I grinned, giving Jeremy a once over. "I agree. Malcolm definitely got the short end of the stick in the looks department." Leaning in, I whispered conspiratorially. "Probably in more ways than one." And then in a sing-song voice, "I think somebody may be overcompensating..."

Eve and I had this ghost-taunting thing down. Jeremy shot me a glance that was half-amused. The other half begged me not to dance in front of the lion's den.

Malcolm growled. "I'll show you overcompensating you little whore!"

Eve had tried to interrupt him with a kick in the stomach, but her leg had never connected. "What the fuck?"

I stared on in shock.

"What?" Jeremy asked, voice urgent.

"That's right bitch!" Malcolm growled at Eve, bolstered by her inability to nail him. "Looks like you can't touch me. Why don't you go back home and get your angel wings and try again? I doubt they'll do much better."

Eve glared at him.

"Get her what?" Jeremy asked, even more urgently.

Eve turned to Jeremy, eyes wide with shock.

I looked over my shoulder, an apologetic smile on my face. "Eve's an angel. You don't know anything about it so shh!" I pressed my finger to his lips. His eyes widened and if he was in more of a playful mood, I was pretty sure he would have jokingly tackled me in that moment. But right now, not so much. I turned back to Eve. "Didn't you just hit him?"

"With my fireball spell," Eve acknowledged, her eyes still deeply examining her enemy.

I grimaced. "There? Ouch."

Eve contemplated the information. "Jeremy can see and hear him. Magic works against him. But I can't touch him. You can't touch him, right?"

I looked over at Jeremy knowing that if I tried without warning him, he wouldn't be too happy with me. "Can you touch him?"

Malcolm smiled and looked at me, lasciviously. "Can you touch me?"

Jeremy kicked out his leg, just enough to knock Malcolm in the shins. His foot sailed right through, but a mischievous little smile crossed his face. All traces were gone before he answered. "No. Can't touch him."

"Weird," Eve answered. "Try to banish him the old fashioned way, at least for now. I'm gonna talk to The Fates and maybe Kristof and see if I can't figure this out."

"You're leaving?" I asked, disbelieving. I stepped back over to my bag, digging once again for the vervain.

"Don't worry," she answered, slowly fading away as she spoke. "I'll be back in a flash."

Malcolm watched after her. "Some company you keep, boy. Necromancers and spell casters and ghosts. You sure have managed to dig the Pack into some deep shit."

Jeremy frowned. "I think rejoining the supernatural world is good for the Pack."

"You would," Malcolm snorted. "Damn half-breed. It was a mistake that I didn't kill you along with your mother, you know that?"

"Don't let him goad you," I called, finally pulling out the vervain and the censer I burned it in. I now struggled to find the matches. My kingdom for a fireball spell. My kingdom for a well-packed bag for that matter.

Peeking up for a second, I could see that Jeremy remained stone-faced, even as Malcolm danced his way over to the chair we'd been sitting on earlier and settled onto it with a knowing smile. "You've done it here, haven't you?" His nostrils twitched and my stomach churned.

"Playing it a little arch, aren't you?" I asked, hands closing around my matches. "I mean, really, the obnoxious, filthy-mouthed villain? You're like a walking stereotype."

"For Jeremy you have to be," Malcolm explained, conversationally. "You see, Jeremy fancies himself a pillar of innocence and virtue. Always doing the 'right thing'. He paints me as this evil bastard because I may have danced over the line once or twice. But we can't all be as perfect as Jeremy thinks he is, now can we?" His attention shifted back to Jeremy. Leaping from the chair, he stepped behind him. Jeremy's eyes followed him, over his shoulder, his head not moving, his whole body tense.

As I worked to light the herb, my hands shaking, I could hear Malcolm lean over and whisper in Jeremy's ear. As he spoke, I could see Jeremy's jaw clench so hard, I thought I could hear teeth crack.

"A little bit of fatherly advice - if I dare acknowledge you as my son. She likes you now. They all do. You're the Pack Alpha. So you seem like you'd be powerful. But she doesn't realize yet what a simpering little wimp you are. You think she's your mate? Because you've chosen her that she'll choose you? Women aren't wolves, boy. Clay got lucky with his whore-wolf. Most women, they move on. The minute she sees the things I see in you, she'll leave you all alone. And Elena will realize she needs a life of her own and she'll take Clay and the twins and she'll leave. And then where will you be? All alone because everyone who realized what a waste you were long since decided to get the fuck out."

"Hey Malcolm," I shouted over him as he started one more taunting sentence. He looked up at me. "Why don't you get the fuck out?" I blew the vervain from the censer into his face. As soon as it touched him, he dispersed into the air of the room, his face shocked. Gone.

But I had a feeling I would be dealing with his aftermath for some time to come.

I looked to Jeremy. He stood there, stiff as a board, his fists clenching and unclenching in time with the erratic beating of my heart. Staring out into some space over my left shoulder, he fought for control. I found I wasn't entirely sure he'd find it.

I walked around him, breathing deeply, trying to get myself under control before I addressed him. He could sense my fear. I knew that. So I wasn't going to make him feel safe unless I did. Finally, I walked up to him, draping my arms around his neck and gazing up at him lovingly. "Jeremy?"

He clenched his fists one more time before breaking his gaze with the wall and bringing his eyes down to meet mine. "Yeah." The word was clipped. I recognized the tone. Something I often heard in Clay's tone after an unfulfilled battle. Jeremy's adrenaline was pumping and there was nowhere for it to go. I supposed I could try to channel it, but I don't think Malcolm had been gone long enough for either of us to attempt that route.

I tried to calm him another way instead. "Has anyone ever told that man that he's an obnoxious gas bag who wouldn't know the truth or intuition if someone pounded it into his face with a mallet?"

Jeremy tried for a smile in response. It quavered and deflated right back into a frown, his eyes dropping to some point on my right shoulder.

I slid my finger under his chin, thumb and pointer maneuvering it down so his eyes met mine. "He's wrong. You know that, right?"

A roar of anger sounded behind us and Jeremy just about jumped out of his skin. He gripped me by my shoulders and all but threw me behind him.

"Bitch," Malcolm regarded me. "You're going to pay for that!" He punctuated the last statement by crashing his fists into the table where Jeremy's sketches rested.

As we watched the table collapse under the weight, the discarded sketches fluttering up into the air, jaws dropped almost cartoonishly in disbelief, I felt Jeremy's back go completely rigid. He turned towards me, wild-eyes filled with urgency and a fear that bordered on terror. His face pleaded with me not to argue.

Two simple words. "Jamie. Run."

With that, I took off - out of the room and down the stairs, all the while praying that soon after, Jeremy would follow.


	4. All In Your Mind

My dignity had officially flown the coop. I was sitting on the floor of Stonehaven's substantial kitchen cupboard, barefoot, in my nightie, hiding from my boyfriend's father. Come to think of it...I think I'd had this experience once before in high school...

And if I'd thought that had been traumatic, it had nothing on this.

I clutched Eve's ring until my knuckles went white. The closest thing to an answer I received was Kristof's voice in my ear telling me not to worry. Eve was on it - and not far from figuring it out. We just had to hold on for a little while longer.

Upstairs, I could hear the commotion - the distant whisper of Jeremy's calm voice as he tried to talk Malcolm down. The crash of breaking furniture. The booming growl of the other man, too infuriated to be reasoned with. Malcolm had always wanted the chance to kill Jeremy, but Jeremy had either been protected by other werewolves or protected by the clause in his grandfather's will that had dictated that, in the event of Jeremy's untimely demise, Stonehaven and whatever allowance came with it would go to charity and a list of Malcolm's crimes would be sent to then-Alpha Domenic Sorrentino. So, Malcolm was stuck living off of his son, all the while waiting for the opportunity to destroy him. And...since he didn't need the money or Stonehaven anymore and had no reason to fear exposure, it would seem he had gotten his chance.

I heard a crash and the sound of something (or...oh god, somebody!) falling down the stairs - and I wondered if we actually even had a little longer.

The cupboard door squeaked open and I foolishly hid behind a warehouse sized collection of cans until I heard Jeremy's whisper. "Jamie!" He climbed in beside me, and I saw a look I hadn't seen directed at me since I'd tried to convince him to stay and fight instead of taking his injured son and his pregnant daughter-in-law back home that time with the whole From Hell letter debacle. He was seriously angry - at me.

I swallowed hard.

"What the hell are you doing?" He growled. "I can smell you down here, which means he can. When I told you to run, I meant to run. Out. Of. The. House. Away from Stonehaven. You need to get Clay and Antonio so they can keep you safe when I lose."

"When? Are you fucking serious?" I asked, my body shaking with fear, anger and...sadly, disappointment. "Are you serious right now? Clay? Antonio? No - what you need right now is to get out there and fight. What the hell is the matter with you?"

He blinked. Once. Twice. "I can't win. I can't beat him."

I just stared at him. I heard a slam. A tear. A crash. All coming from upstairs. I looked up and then back at Jeremy. "What is he doing up there?"

"Right now?" Jeremy responded. "Well, he already figures he's got me beat. He's working his way through the house to get to me. So...um...I believe that would be him destroying...all...of my paintings."

"Well, get up there and stop him!" I shouted, gesturing wildly at the door.

He glared at me. "You're harder to replace." He took a deep breath. "Jamie, if I go out and fight him, I'd be taking a huge risk. And I can't take a huge risk when what I really have to do is protect you."

"He'll find us here anyway," I shot back. "He can smell us, can't he?"

"Which is why you're going to run and I'll hold him off."

"No, that's why you're going to kill him."

"I've tried this before. I've fought him. It didn't go well. I already told you," Jeremy argued. "If I fight him, I will lose."

I opened my mouth to fight back, but Eve picked a very good time to poke her head through the side of the cupboard.

"Don't talk. Just listen."

I looked to her, and Jeremy followed my gaze with a frown.

When Eve was sure she'd gotten my attention, she started talking. "It's him," she said, motioning towards Jeremy. "He's doing it. It's the Kitsune blood. They shift reality. That coupled with the ghost in this house and all of his...God, for an Alpha, he's a tad insecure, huh?"

I wanted to yell, "Only right now! Usually he's damn confident!" But...Eve had told me not to answer.

"Add you to the mix with your necro blood...Basically it's all about a convergence of power. But this is mainly all Jeremy. The worse Malcolm freaks him out, the stronger he's going to get. If Jeremy doesn't get back out of this cupboard and stand up to him, Malcolm will destroy everything in this house. And the more he does, the worse Jeremy will feel. Until he kills the two of you and starts wreaking havoc through the rest of the Pack and anyone who tries to defend them." She said that one with a little extra gravity and I knew that she worried Savannah would get into that battle. "Don't let Jeremy give him any more fuel. If Jeremy goes at him and really means it, Malcolm will lose power fast."

I looked from Jeremy back to her. Jeremy had the good sense to keep quiet for the moment.

"I know what you're thinking," Eve sighed. "It's just this situation. Our parents really get to us like nobody else can, right? And Jeremy thinks too damn much. Look how long it took him to move forward with you! He's a cautious guy - especially when it comes to protecting people he loves. But he's gotta find a way to throw that to the wind for a bit. And you've gotta make it happen."

"Me?" I half-shrieked, forgetting our rule. Jeremy glanced over at me, concerned. "And how do you expect - "

"You can't tell him what I've said to you," Eve explained. "If he thinks he can just will him down with his mind, he will try too hard and lose. He needs to think he's going out there for a fair fight. And he might be. I don't really know. But he definitely needs to go out there willing to at least try to kick Malcolm's ass. The Fates are pissed. Jeremy accidentally bent the rules, but Malcolm willingly took advantage of it. Make sure that Jeremy knows that if he takes him down, I can take him away. Ok?"

I nodded, but my eyes filled with tears. What if he wouldn't listen to me? What if I wasn't enough to get him out there fighting?

"Let me leave you guys to it," Eve said, worry etched into her features despite the words that followed. "Don't worry. He's stronger than he thinks he is."

When she was gone, I took a deep breath.

"What did Eve say?" Jeremy asked, swiping his thumb across my cheek, catching the tear that had managed to escape.

I turned to him, moving closer until I was nearly face to face with him and practically sitting in his lap. Jeremy laid his hands on my hips. Cupping the back of his neck with my hands, I pulled him until our foreheads pressed together. "I want you to look into my eyes and I want you to listen to me."

"What's wrong?" His eyebrows were tightly knitted together on his forehead.

"Just...listen. I know Clay and Antonio have both tried to fight Malcolm for you. And I get that that makes you think that you can't. That because you have less brute strength than him or than them that this is not a fight you can win. You know what that is?" I paused and waited for a response. I got none. "That's you wallowing." I felt Jeremy's fingers digging in to my hips, and I was pretty sure I'd pissed him off - which spurned me onward. "Malcolm seems scary because he spent your entire childhood being scary. But you're 65 years old now, Jeremy. You are not anything close to a child anymore. So you think you can't beat him because Clay doesn't think you can? Clay, who thinks you need protection from diseased rats? Well, that didn't stop you from flying out to LA on your own and shucking any bodyguard treatment. Do you stay home at Stonehaven all day if you don't have Clay or Antonio with you? What if any other mutt Malcolm's size and strength came at you? What would you do?"

"Fight him! Try to talk him down if I could, but if it was necessary, I would fight. I have fought." Jeremy was struggling to keep his emotions in check. With every moment that passed, his anger level ratcheted up higher. Especially when we started to hear the furniture go down in the twins room. "But this isn't - "

"It is!" I argued.

"This isn't natural, Jamie," he fought. "Not even for us. That's more what has me spooked than anything. I thought he was gone. Permanently gone. I wasn't expecting this and he shouldn't be here. It bears investigation before I go running off half cocked -"

"Humans doing magic - not natural. Serial killing werewolves - not natural. Human corporations kidnapping Supernaturals - not natural. Evil immortality seekers hunting children - not natural. Letters that hide portals to the past - not fucking natural. You've either fought those wars or played a huge hand in them. You said it during the mission that made us an us - we make the rule book as we go along. We are now about to be the council's foremost experts on ghosts that suddenly become solid." I took a deep breath. "Jeremy, do you think I'm defenseless? Or do you think I can handle myself."

"Mostly?" He looked like he was trying to gage where I was going with the question before he answered - like he wasn't sure what answer would get him in deeper shit. "I think you can hold your own."

"Can I beat up a werewolf? No. As a matter of fact, I have absolutely no offensive skills aside from my big, sarcastic mouth."

"That can be pretty offensive," he threw out with a glare.

I ignored him. "You trust me because you know I have something that most of our challengers don't. A brain. Good instincts. The will to go down fighting if necessary. Most of the time, that outfoxes even the most difficult opponents. Eve is ready to take him - but you have to weaken him first. She told me you have to fight him or her hands are tied. Understand?"

"I want...I need...to keep you safe." He uttered. He was teetering on the border. I watched several emotions make their way through Jeremy's eyes in that moment. Fear. Pain. Frustration. And then I heard the door to the nursery slam open again. That's when I saw what bordered on irrational anger. And I decided to drive the final nail home.

"If he wins, he'll be here when the kids get back home. We've got to stop him." I pressed my lips against his, hard. "Now, go out there and be my hero again."

That did it. Fists clenched, he threw the cupboard door open and climbed out. As he marched towards the bottom of the staircase, I realized what I had missed this whole time. Jeremy didn't have nightmares. He had visions. He saw the present or the very near future. He had seen me die in his dream so his main concern was protecting me - getting me out. In saying what I did, I had redirected his protective energies to the kids. He had realized I was right - if he didn't fight, those kids would come back to Malcolm smashing through their house. And if Kate and Logan had foolishly run in before their parents...the results could be much more tragic than my death could ever be.

I just prayed I hadn't just sent Jeremy to a death of his own.

"Malcolm!" I heard Jeremy's voice boom. The pounding upstairs stopped. It seemed as though Malcolm was waiting for something. When he got no response, Jeremy continued. "You want me dead? Well, try. Come down here and kill me."

Oh God.

Malcolm sauntered towards the stairs, wariness plain. "Who you got waiting down there for me?"

"Just me, father," he spat. For a moment, I wondered if maybe I had gotten him a little too angry. Perhaps too angry to think straight?

Malcolm stepped down, stair by stair, as though waiting for the anvil to drop. "You want to fight me?"

"Right now? More than anything." Jeremy growled. For a second I almost couldn't believe what I was hearing. I didn't know what, of all of the things I had said, had triggered this response, but I didn't care. I'd never been more proud of him than I was at this moment.

Malcolm's cheek twitched. "No, tricks? No help? That's my boy."

"I've never been your boy," Jeremy responded, his words coming through gritted teeth.

"True enough," Malcolm laughed before vaulting over the banister and landing on the lower floor in front of Jeremy, who was already diving forward to tackle him. Jeremy caught him, his shoulder crashing hard into Malcolm's stomach as Jeremy ran him into the nearby wall.

Jeremy threw a punch, but Malcolm recovered, catching Jeremy's fist and twisting it hard behind him as he swept his legs out from under him. Jeremy was about to crash into the floor face first, but he caught himself on one hand, which Malcolm wasted no time in stomping.

I winced. I was pretty sure I'd heard a bone break there and suddenly, I was mourning the abilities of those hands - painting, love making, medicine, marksmanship. My eyes widened. Marksmanship! And just like that, I had a back-up plan.

When I was sure both men were distracted - they were grappling for position, each one getting the upper hand for a few moments, then losing it - I rushed out of my hiding place and ran headlong for the back door. Slipping out, I found the locked case where Jeremy kept his revolvers and was instantly grateful to him for showing me how to use them. I wasn't great, but I knew how they worked. And I certainly knew how to load them.

Knowing it was better to be safe than hand guns to a madman, I filled both revolvers and walked them back into the house, gripping the triggers. Leaving them in the box would be bad news for anyone who may be left behind when all was said and done. Seeing Clay's coat draped over the porch railing, I hastily threw it on, the coat large enough on me to hide both my hands and the revolvers.

When I walked in, I wasn't even sure what I had missed. I did see, however, that the fight had moved into the study, and that whatever had occurred had left a chair split down the middle, a deep slice in Jeremy's eyebrow and a split lip for Malcolm. They circled each other, Malcolm eager to jump in and fight, Jeremy analyzing his options. When I came into view, Jeremy's attention slipped to me - just long enough for me to slip the revolver out of my coat. A few precious seconds that did two things - on one hand, I had shown Jeremy that I was prepared to take care of myself if necessary. On the other hand, I had distracted him.

Malcolm dove at him full force, tackling him to the floor and landing several punches to his face. I winced. I had been trying to give Jeremy confidence. Had I just lost him the battle?

I couldn't tell from my hiding place, but I was pretty sure Jeremy had lost consciousness. My insides jumped. I was debating just walking over and shooting Malcolm in the head when I heard Malcolm lean over, speaking into Jeremy's ear. "You were always a disgrace. Never a real werewolf and never a true contender to be Alpha. You couldn't even win it fair and square - you couldn't even fight me. Luck got you there, not skill, not power. So tell me, boy? Where's your luck now?"

My eyes slammed shut as I saw him lean slightly back, his hands going for Jeremy's neck. My hand tightened around the gun, pulling it out of the pocket of Clay's jacket.

I don't know what happened in that moment. Most likely it was Jeremy's sixth sense for danger that had alerted him. But Jeremy reared up, his head connecting with Malcolm's nose so hard I could hear it snap. Malcolm toppled over and off of Jeremy, blood gushing from his nostrils.

Jeremy climbed to his feet. "Luck? Is that what you call it?" He grabbed Malcolm by the head and shoulders and kneed him in the stomach to punctuate each question. "Having you as a father was luck? Being painted the weak one was luck? Having to bury your kills was luck?"

Pulling him up to his full height, Jeremy grabbed him by the shirt collar, slamming him up against the wall. "I'm going to say this now because one way or another I will never get the chance to again. And I need to say this. You think I was scared to fight mutts? To kill? I simply had no taste for it. Not afraid, just never wanted to. Not wanting to kill, doesn't mean I won't."

Malcolm moved to talk, but Jeremy cut him off with a punch to his face that surprised me and for a second there I questioned whether this might be the only kill Jeremy actually did have a taste for.

"I didn't tell the Pack what you were doing because I didn't want to unleash you on the world without their rules to guide you," Jeremy explained, and at this point the anger had slipped from his face and he was wearing that inscrutable expression again - or whatever I could see of it...through all the blood. Blood dripped out of his nose, as well as a cut over his eye and a slash on his cheek. Malcolm didn't look to be faring much better. "Not because I was afraid of you. But I was. Then. Not anymore. I have faced things that you couldn't imagine and fought bloodier battles than you could offer and I won. You would have lost. Or you wouldn't have gotten into the battles in the first place." A well placed knee to the stomach doubled Malcolm over. Jeremy pulled him straight and looked him dead in the eye as Malcolm fought for air he didn't actually need. "Because you have no honor. The Pack under you would have been impotent. Ineffectual. Changes have been made that you couldn't begin to imagine because you are limited. Close-minded. And -"

Malcolm interrupted him, running into him full force and knocking him onto the large table in the center of the study. Malcolm fell onto it too, just to the right of him. With the weight of both their bodies crashing on top of it, the wood beneath them splintered and snapped, sending them both to the ground in a shower of wood chips. Both men struggled to sit upright. I noticed a nasty bleeding gash in Jeremy's leg, and a matching one across the top of Malcolm's forehead.

Malcolm's eyes were full of rage and he was recovering quicker than Jeremy. Once again, my hands clenched around the revolvers.

"Don't," I heard Kristof beside me. When I looked to him, he was standing to my left watching the fight with a smile.

I turned to my right and found Eve bouncing in place, excitedly. "He's got this."

Malcolm moved behind Jeremy and reached for his head. I knew that position. He was seconds away from snapping Jeremy's neck. My heart stuttered. No.

"You're more like me than I thought, boy," Malcolm said, advancing on him, a look on his face that told me that he was impressed with what he had brought out in Jeremy. But that didn't really change anything.

"I'm nothing like you," Jeremy answered. He looked a bit dazed and his hands groped the floor, seemingly fighting for purchase. And then, just as I was about to cry out to warn him, just when I thought it was over, Malcolm doubled over just behind Jeremy, blood spurting from his mouth. "I'm better."

It took me a second to see the huge, sharpened wood splinter that Jeremy had pushed through Malcolm's chest. But once I did, that and Jeremy's words made my heart leap.

"Yes!" Kristof leapt up, punching the air. Eve gave a little clap. He turned to Eve and grinned. "Better than a hockey fight."

"Damned straight," she laughed.

Jeremy rose to his feet and walked around Malcolm. Malcolm gaped at the wood impaling him and struggled to move but he couldn't get off of it and Jeremy's foot was holding it firmly in place. Then he leaned down, hands moving to Malcolm's head and he said, in a voice so soft I almost couldn't hear it. "I'm Alpha now, right? Fair and square." And with that, he snapped Malcolm's neck.

Malcolm hit the floor and scattered like dust in the wind, but his spirit rose from the mess, turning and looking at Jeremy with disbelief. Eve and Kristof swooped in immediately. As Eve walked past she threw out, "Tell him he did good."

As the ghostly pair collected Malcolm, Jeremy dropped to his knees in the pile of wood, looking for all the world like he was about to pass out onto a pointy stick himself. I rushed to his side, holding him upright as he took huge gulps of air.

He threw that crooked grin of his my way. "Gone? For good this time?" He asked.

I looked to Eve and Kristof. Each of them had one of Malcolm's arms, but he was putting up quite a fuss. Vowing to come back, swearing this wasn't over - the usual wronged ghost shtick. Eve looked to me, nodding in response to Jeremy's question.

"Eve's got him," I told him, brushing his blood soaked hair from his face. "He's gone. For good this time."

He released a sigh that seemed to wither him a little, like all that had been holding him up was that air.

"What now?" I asked, throwing an arm over his shoulder.

"Sleep. Please." He answered and I smiled at his honesty. If I had been anyone else, he would have tried a claim at being completely astute and unharmed. But because I was me, because he trusted me and he knew I appreciated knowing he wasn't perfectly strong, he let the truth spill out.

"Uh-uh," I scolded. "First you're going to help me patch you up. Can you stand?"

He nodded and as I helped him to his feet, I wished for fast healing and easy bandaging. Sure it was only 3 in the afternoon...but we could probably sleep all night.


	5. Pack

Once again, my eyes fluttered open because of the warmth of the sun, streaming through Jeremy's windows and heating my face. This time though, I wasn't staring out at that sun. This time, opening my eyes brought me a full view of Jeremy's face. He was laying beside me, turned slightly towards me with his elbow propping his head up, his other hand sweetly caressing my forehead. He had a slight smile on his face as his finger twisted in a curl and gave it a little tug. "Good Morning."

"Mmmmm, good morning," I answered, stretching. My eyes darted around his face to all of the little cuts and bruises that had been left by his battle with Malcolm the night before. Every one of them had halved in size. "How are you feeling?"

His smile lit his eyes. "Like I've actually slept."

I grinned. "Well, that's good news."

We fell into silence. It was a comfortable silence. Jeremy stared down at me and...well...I had been surprised alot this weekend. Jeremy wasn't one for huge displays of emotion. He wasn't one for showing anything he felt. You had to know him very well to see when he was angry, nervous, happy. It didn't show freely on his face. But this weekend, I had seen every emotion play out. Even now, when he stared down at me, I could see the emotion there. I didn't want to name it, afraid that I'd be wrong. But he did it for me.

"I love you."

I don't know what expression I responded with. What I felt was shock. How it looked must've been something else because Jeremy scrambled to explain.

"I know. I know it's been years and we said we weren't putting labels on this and that we would find time when we could and that's perfect for me. I just...that's how I feel, how I've felt...pretty much since LA. I don't expect anything from you. I just figured that, if this was the weekend of me spilling my guts...I may as well make sure they were...all...spilled."

The man was out of his depth, poor thing. Not very many things in the world that could do that to Jeremy Danvers. And in the last couple of days he'd seen alot of it.

When I didn't answer again, he turned, expression completely bland and normal and moved to get out of the bed. "Breakfast?"

I pulled him back down.

"What?" He asked, and it held no annoyance, no urgency to get away. He was either back to hiding his emotions or he genuinely expected nothing in return.

I reached out and touched his cheek, softly. "You're beginning to sound like me, you know?" I laughed. "You keep talking like that and Clay is going to whip out the chain saw."

"Talking like what?" He asked, all innocence.

"Being a babbling fool. Talking about spilling your guts. That's not a very Jeremy thing to say."

"Some things have changed," he shrugged. Then he rolled his shoulders, working out a kink there and as he did, he closed his eyes. When they opened, he looked tired again. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what?" I asked, truly mystified. Was he sorry for saying he loved me?

"For what happened with Malcolm. To the extent that I caused it and also for the fact that I reacted the way I did," He frowned. "That wasn't very...brave. Or, at some moments, sane."

I shook my head. "It's fine. You don't need to apologize."

"I do," he argued, leaning in and placing his forehead against mine. "I lost myself. Forgot who I was and what I could do. You found the perfect words and actions to remind me of my own strength. Thank you."

I kissed him, sweetly. My hand slid through his, fingers threading together. "You warned me that there were chinks in the armor. I knew that going in. I never expected perfection. I love you - even the parts of you that you'd rather I didn't see."

He tipped his face to mine again, pulling me in for a long, slow kiss. My cell phone beeped and I jumped. I knew exactly who was calling, it was a call that I was expecting, but the weekend had been so insane that, up until this very moment, I'd totally forgotten.

"What's wrong?" Jeremy asked.

I smiled sweetly. "Just a second." I rolled over and looked at the text I had received. It was from Elena.

 _Everything good? Can we start?_

I answered and turned to Jeremy. "It's 11! You let me sleep until 11!"

"You were tired."

I jumped up in bed. "I made lunch reservations for us at noon. Grab something to munch on and get ready. Maybe, if you finish before me, you can clean up some of that mess we left behind yesterday?"

"I already did that," he smiled. "I've been up since 8. The house is relatively tidied. I placed orders for some new furniture."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Alright. Just...be ready to leave in an hour. I'll go online and delay the reservations. I've got to take a shower. Now."

"I can join - "

"No time!" I cut off.

He shook his head and left me to my shower.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Noon. I was dressed, looking fabulous and ready to go in my ruffled coral shirt, chocolate skirt and matching heels. Or...ready to pretend to go. Jeremy was waiting at the foot of the stairs looking just as gorgeous as always, with a button down grey shirt and dark pants.

Gazing up at me as I walked down the stairs, he smiled his crooked grin. "You look beautiful."

I smiled, pausing on the stairs. "You're rather romantic today. I may have to hold you to this behavior more often."

His eyebrows arched. "I'm not romantic?"

"Perhaps I should substitute that with...expressive," I corrected. "You're rather expressive today. And I like it. I get the actions speak louder than words thing, and don't get me wrong, you've more than proved yourself...but a girl could get used to this."

His smile turned predatory. "Get down here."

A thrill ran through me at the commanding tone in his voice. I wanted to dance around in triumph. When I had gotten here, Jeremy was moody, frightened, and feeling a little un-Alpha like. Today, Jeremy was happy, confident and very commanding. Back to my guy - and I couldn't suppress the burst of pride at how he'd gotten there. I had pulled him back.

I headed down the rest of the stairs and as soon as I came close to him he backed me up against the wall, gripping my hips and pulling me up against him.

"Cancel the reservations," he demanded, lips moving over my ear, down my neck, over my shoulder. "I want to eat in."

Oh...if only there were reservations to cancel...

"Somebody's back to giving orders...um..." It was very hard to think when his hands glided over my breasts. "Let me get my phone."

He pushed his lips forcefully against mine, hands tangling in my hair. "Forget it. We just won't show up." I

 laughed, but the sound came out squeaky and off. "But that would be impolite." I silently entreated Elena to hurry up. I didn't have the strength to say no to this on my own.

He growled, hands pushing under my skirt as he swooped in for another kiss. When the door bell rang, I was torn between singing the Hallelujah chorus and crying from the loss of good sex.

"Ignore it." His voice rumbled in his chest as his head descended lower.

"Hey! Can we come in? Everyone decent in there?" Clay.

I'd never heard Jeremy use a single one of the curses that erupted from his mouth in a rush of breath. He dropped his head onto my shoulder and took a deep breath. Then he took another deep breath, nostrils twitching. His eyes closed. Then opened. And he looked to me. "I will pay you back for this."

As he straightened himself out, I blinked, innocently. "Pay me back for what?"

His eyes narrowed.

I straightened my hair, my blouse and my skirt. "Ok, Clay."

The eruption of laughter outside the door did not go unnoticed.

"Took you long enough to answer!" Clay laughed before pushing the door open.

A crowd of people entered the house. Lucas and Paige. Savannah and Adam. Cassandra and Aaron. Hope, Karl and their daughter. Reese, Morgan and Noah. Antonio and Nick. And, of course, Elena, Clay and the twins.

Jeremy's face twitched in a smile. And then, a grimace. He looked down at the twins. "You two knew the whole time?"

They smiled and nodded in unison.

"Traitors."

Antonio rushed up to him, clapping him on the back. "Surprise! Happy Birthday, old man."

"Old man!" Cassandra laughed. "65 isn't old. He's just a baby!"

Clay took that moment to break through the crowd. It was clear from his face he was about to say something he considered funny, but the humor in his eyes died immediately upon seeing Jeremy. "Um...what happened to your face?"

Right...I probably should have called ahead to explain that.

Jeremy nodded, completely unsurprised by the question. "A long and interesting story, the end of which involves my being here, mostly unharmed. A story that you and Antonio will understand particularly well. However, now is, likely...not the time." He stared stone-faced at the crowd in front of him. Anyone who didn't know him very well would think he was angry. But I could see the twinkle in his eyes and knew he was playing all of them.

Elena grinned, motioning towards a large wooden case she had brought in with her. "We've got booze?"

A genuine smile split the stone veneer. "Well, in that case, by all means..."

"C'mon," I grinned. "Everybody go give Jeremy a great big hug for his birthday while Clay, Elena and I get the food set up."

Nobody in the crowd budged. A hugger, Jeremy was not. And it wasn't uncommon knowledge. I stared out into the crowd, lips twisting in disappointment. Then I turned to face Jeremy. "Nobody here is any fun."

"Pay back," he mouthed more than said, a teasing smile on his lips. Then he turned to the crowd. "Why don't we all get settled in the study?"

He herded the crowd out of the room. As he entered the study, I heard Logan's voice above the din. "Jeremy, what happened to the table?"

Jeremy's answer was soft and fast. "Jamie and I redecorated."

The door swung shut behind them, cutting off the rest of the exchange. That left Elena, Clay and I to get the food and drinks we'd ordered together - an order, that was quite bulky considering the size of our werewolf party. We worked alongside each other for all of two seconds before Clay asked the question that I knew had been floating on the tip of his tongue since he'd seen Jeremy, just waiting to burst out.

"What the hell happened here?"

"Wait till you see what happened upstairs," I sighed. "Didn't Jeremy tell you he would explain?"

"Jamie," he snarled.

"Stonehaven was haunted by the ghost of Malcolm Danvers," I explained.

"Jeremy's father?" Elena chimed in, opening a bottle of wine. "How does that make for Jeremy getting all beaten up?"

"It shouldn't, should it? But it seems that Jeremy's mixed bag of unexplained powers went a long way towards...well...solidifying him."

"What?" Clay stiffened. "He was here? Alive and...and here? And Jeremy was alone?"

"Alive and, quite literally, kicking," I grumbled. "And Jeremy wasn't alone. He had me."

Clay's look could have made even the most confident person feel small. Elena laid a restraining hand on his arm. He stood down. "Is Jeremy...," Elena's face twisted into a grimace, "okay?"

"Well, yes, in that he's alive and that's more than I can say for the other guy, especially now," I answered. Before Clay could ask, I kept talking. "And yes, he seems to be mentally alright now too, although it was touch and go for a moment there. You know, Clay, the next time you and Antonio think Jeremy isn't capable of winning a fight and you want to tell him, don't. Getting him to fight Malcolm without considering how to protect me when he lost took alot more cheerleading on my part than it should have."

Clay paused for a moment. "He fought Malcolm and won." He processed this for a moment.

"I've never actually been a cheerleader, but apparently I should have been," I grinned. "Yes, Jeremy won. And then Eve and I did our thing. Between the three of us, we got rid of him. The Fates have banished him from Stonehaven." As we talked, we had assembled a nice selection of meats, cheeses, fruits and vegetables. I lifted one tray to bring into the study.

"Jamie?" Clay called after me. I turned to face him as he hoisted another tray and a huge bottle of brandy. Elena grabbed a bottle of wine, a bottle of soda and a stack of plates and glasses. When I met Clay's eyes, I saw a twinkle there and it took until he muttered the words to recognize it for what it was. "Thanks. For taking care of him while I was gone."

I couldn't help my smile. That twinkle? True acceptance.

It took kicking the study door three times with the toe of my shoe to get someone to open the door. Aaron and Lucas were on the other side, both having apparently rushed to help me. It wasn't bad being surrounded by gentlemen. Clay's tray nudged slightly into my back to get me moving faster. Ahh yes...a house full of ladies, gentlemen...and Clayton.

Even as he bumped by me though, it wasn't a rude bump, but something a little more akin to teasing. I struggled to keep my excitement from showing.

I looked around the room. Nick and Antonio had rushed to set out chairs but there hadn't been quite enough. The twins were perched on the floor, legs crossed, in front of Nick and Antonio. Hope cradled her little girl in her arms. Paige curled up on Lucas' lap. Adam sat on the floor, propped against Savannah's knee. Reese, Noah and Morgan were perched along the credenza towards the back of the room. The fireplace was going and, as I watched Savannah's animated retelling of the tale of her last investigation, I marveled at the pervasive feeling of home that swelled in me.

After passing around food and drinks, I moved towards Jeremy with a glass of brandy. He had been watching the exchange but as I approached, his eyes lit up and he motioned me towards a seat next to him that he had been reserving. I settled in beside him. As Savannah's story wrapped up, peels of laughter filled the room.

"Well, if you think that's bad, have I got a story for you!" Paige started.

As food was eaten, liquor flowed and stories were told, I could practically feel Jeremy unwinding. When presents were passed around, I had expected the discomfort level to rise again, but Jeremy was simply graciously accepting of all of the gifts he was given. Nothing if not practical, the gang had all gotten him things he could use - art supplies, medical supplies, mystery and suspense novels and the like. The most impressive gifts were shockingly from Hope, Karl and Savannah.

Hope and Karl had used her mother's connections to garner entrance for Jeremy and a guest into a special museum art gala which housed some very rare collections.

Savannah's gift was much less extravagant, but elicited a bark of laughter from Jeremy upon opening it. It was a plaque, ornately carved in well polished cherry wood. Beautiful...until you read the inscription.

"Being Special Sucks."

As Jeremy showed it to the room, Savannah laughed out loud. "Well, it does!"

"That's not the first time I've heard that phrase batted around between the two of you," Adam looked up at her. "What's that about?"

"Well, it started in Miami, during the case where we met Jamie..."

As Savannah talked, I only half listened. I was watching Jeremy, whose eyes were flitting around the room, a look of some seriously deep thought on his face. I elbowed him in the ribs, discreetly.

"I'm looking for a place for my new plaque," he whispered, the lie popping out so immediately that there was no doubt of its false nature. At my look, he sighed and took a gulp of his brandy. "I can't be the only one who feels it."

My eyebrow raised, a wordless response I had learned from the man himself.

"Malcolm said that one day, I'd be left all alone," Jeremy explained, voice a hushed whisper as he leaned towards me, warm breath on my ear. "He hit on something...a fear. A fear of not being needed...or missed." He paused for a moment before adding. "I think I've just now realized how ridiculous that fear is."

I smiled affectionately. "You mean a great deal to alot of people, Jeremy."

He smiled his crooked smile again. "It would seem that way." He paused for a moment, and I wished that from this angle I could see more than his mouth. I would have loved to have seen what was going on behind his eyes. "I may not have led the Pack in the usual way. I may have made some choices that previous Pack Alphas would have considered...controversial. But...when I look out on this room, I don't see werewolves and witches and necromancers, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. I see Pack. My Pack. United." His voice trailed off, as if unsure of whether or not to say the next words. "One oddly matched but loving family. And a powerful one, all members willing to protect one another, to use their different abilities for the good of all. That's true strength."

I grinned. "That sounds about right." I reached out and stroked his cheek. "You okay?"

He nodded. "Better than ever, if you can believe that. I've defeated the very personification of that angry voice in my head that always tells me I'm foolish and weak, against the odds. That and being surrounded by people who love me...it's been an ego boosting weekend."

I leaned up and kissed him gently.

"Oh, get a room," I heard Elena laughingly shout.

Jeremy and I looked up towards our friends, laughing. I opened my mouth, but it was Jeremy who responded. "This from the couple who..." He glanced over at the twins, who covered their ears as if on cue. Elena and Clay's hands clamped down over them. "...before the twins, were continually being found together in various stages of undress...pretty much anywhere you looked for them."

"Hey!" Clay piped up. "Don't retaliate against me too! She said it."

"Wow, Clay!" Paige grinned. "Way to throw her under the bus."

After some laughter and several more stories, I looked back to Jeremy. He was well on his way to drunk, and his eyes held a mischievous glitter in them. Definitely riding high off of the ego boost, he looked like he'd just come back from a run. I decided my birthday surprise had been a very good idea, indeed.

"So," I asked, hand landing on his thigh. "Are you still threatening revenge?"

He leaned over to whisper in my ear again, lips brushing my cheek on the way over. "You only get away with it if you promise one thing."

"Anything."

"Time alone later." I nodded.

As if there was any chance I would say no to that. "Happy Birthday, Jeremy."

He pulled away, kissing my cheek. With a squeeze of my hand, he turned his attention back to the crowd. As I watched him chuckle at something Clay had muttered, a thought floated around in my head, one I would never speak aloud because it was one I knew Jeremy wouldn't care to hear, despite how much he would agree. Jeremy wasn't a sore winner, but I certainly was.

 _You lose, Malcolm._


End file.
